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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343750">&amp; Robin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RizaHawkeyePierce/pseuds/RizaHawkeyePierce'>RizaHawkeyePierce</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson is Robin, Early Days, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Bruce Wayne, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:49:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RizaHawkeyePierce/pseuds/RizaHawkeyePierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce takes Dick Grayson out for his first night as Robin. Is Dick ready? Is Bruce ready?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alfred Pennyworth &amp; Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson &amp; Alfred Pennyworth &amp; Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>&amp; Robin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Was this really a good idea? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bruce wondered, watching the road ahead as the rain came down and the Batmobile (Dick had named it - unfortunately, the name seemed to be catching) prowled silently through the wet streets. He glanced over at Dick, who was trying to look serious, even though he was practically quivering with excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True, the kid had passed every test Bruce could throw at him over the past two years. He was smart, and quick on his feet, more comfortable with improvisation that Bruce thought he himself would ever be. And it had been such a help to have him even as a lookout…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirteen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You were twelve when you started roaming the streets at night, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminded himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was true, but Alfred had tried to stop him. Like an adult, like any normal adult would when a child was putting themselves in danger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The operative word there is “tried”. Alfred </span>
  </em>
  <span>tried</span>
  <em>
    <span> to stop you. And no doubt you’d be just as successful stopping Dick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And maybe this way he can escape becoming like you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, the fact was that Bruce needed help. He needed a second set of eyes, to watch his back and to watch him, too, make sure he didn’t cross a line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir,” came Alfred’s voice crisply over the radio. “I have a report here on the illness of those poor people. By cross-referencing their home addresses with their work addresses, or the places where they spend most of their time, there appear to be two likely locations for the source of the contaminant, whatever it may be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, Alfred. Send them over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already have, sir. They should be appearing on your vehicle’s navigation momentarily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two dots appeared on the Batmobile’s center console, which was displaying a map of the surrounding streets. Bruce zoomed out to see them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here they are, Alfred. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure, sir,” said Alfred, and he closed the connection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like a warehouse near the docks and a house in Maple Grove,” said Dick, scrolling through the map.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which do you think we should go to first?” Bruce asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick frowned, staring at the screen. “Warehouse. It’s closer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce gave half a smile. “As good a reason as any. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they neared the first address, Bruce opened his mouth, hesitated, cleared his throat. “Listen, Robin--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” said Dick, anticipating Bruce’s thought. “You said I was ready. You said we’d be going out tonight, together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just--” Bruce paused. “I was expecting to stop a burglary or two. Maybe a mugging. But I’ve never seen anything like this before. People are sick--a few of them have died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either I’m ready, or I’m not,” said Dick. He’d put his mask on and was glaring at Bruce through it. “Am I ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce took a deep breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was he? Was I, when I started?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin grinned. “Then let’s do this.” Batman nodded once as he pulled up his cowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> They slipped inside the warehouse through a skylight and crouched on a rafter, surveying the scene below. The warehouse was not in use, at least by a shipping company: though it was half full of shipping containers, there were several people, mostly men, milling around inside. They crowded around fires in oil drums, warming their hands, or huddled under thin blankets on the floor, trying to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think this is the place,” whispered Robin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe…” said Batman, “But let’s watch for a while anyway.” He crept along the rafter, stopping just above a pair of women, one of whom was toasting a piece of bread on a metal spatula.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Sam?” the one toasting asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other folded her arms and looked away. “Dead,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman toasting her bread closed her eyes for a moment, her face tilted toward the roof. “Her liver finally give out, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other woman spat in the fire. “Nah, I heard she got some of the gas. Took her out in a few hours. ‘Course, her liver being half dead can’t’ve helped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During this conversation, Batman was lowering himself, silently, to the floor. At this last sentence, he stepped out from a shadow and said, “What’s this about gas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman toasting her bread started, dropping her toast in the fire, while the other woman screamed, sprinting around a corner in her panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s you,” the remaining woman said, staring ruefully into the barrel. “Look what you made me do. Rude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Jamie. Here,” Batman pulled a few granola bars from a pocket on his belt. Jamie took them and grinned - a couple of her teeth were missing. “About the gas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s some kinda drug, but not a fun one, you know.” She opened a granola bar, delicately. The others had disappeared into her pocket. “Somebody’s been hiding it around the city. Leaving it for people to find. A gas - you open up a thermos, a cooler, and it sprays out at you, makes you go--” she twirled a finger around her temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would someone do this?” Batman asked, sitting down on a crate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell if I know. No profit in it. Doesn’t seem to be going after a particular person. Probably just someone messed up in the head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“According to the hospitals, the patients mostly recover on their own in a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie nodded. “If they were healthy going in, they mostly survive it. Of course, this is mostly homeless people we’re talking about. Not a lot of healthy ones, on the whole. Half of them don’t even make it to the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any lasting aftereffects?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie shrugged. “Yeah, a bit. People are jumpy afterward, startle easy, you know. Affects some of them worse than others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Jamie,” said Batman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s the kid?” said Jamie, nodding at Robin, who was crouched on top of a shipping container. Batman glanced at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An apprentice, of sorts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie grinned again. “Starting ‘em young, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have to learn sometime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie’s face went white. “Look out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batman turned - a man was rushing up behind him with a long knife. He jumped to his feet, dodging the first swipe of the knife--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Robin came crashing down on the man’s shoulders. The man fell to the ground, Robin kneeling on his back, twisting the knife arm up until the man dropped it. Robin seized it and tossed it away. The man lay quiet, breathing quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very neat,” said Batman. Robin beamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie knelt down next to the man. “George, why? He’s trying to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stream of mingled curses and gibberish poured from the man’s mouth. Jamie stroked his hair soothingly, and the man’s eyes seemed to clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jamie? What-- What’s happening?” He looked past her, focusing on Batman. “No! No! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! Please!” He struggled so fiercely that Robin almost lost hold of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what it looks like,” said Jamie. “We tried to get him to the hospital, but he’s too strong - we can’t force him.” She looked at George again - he’d started to scream, over and over. “I think you’d better go--” She turned and Batman was gone. When she turned back to George, Robin had vanished as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other address Alfred provided was a large house that looked like it had once been beautiful, but now was abandoned. The paint peeled off the exterior and the front porch leaned at a different angle than the rest of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They crept inside. Everything was covered with dust an inch deep, though the floor was heavily criss-crossed with footprints. Clearly someone was still using the place. After a preliminary search of the main floor turned up nothing, Batman turned to Robin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go search upstairs. I’ll look in the basement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin nodded, looking nervous, and headed for the wide, sweeping staircase. Batman found the door to the left of the foyer that led downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped as softly as he could, the dust muffling his steps, though the wood still creaked occasionally. The stairway was dark, and he was reluctant to turn on a light, so his ears seemed to roar as he listened for any sound out of place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached the door at the bottom of the stairs and eased it open. Inside, everything was immaculately clean. It appeared to be a lab of some kind, with large tanks lining the walls, lit with (of course) a sickly green light. The air was filled with soft whirring and clicking noises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One wall was covered in TV screens. As he approached, they blinked on, one by one. On each of them, a man sat, staring straight at the camera, wearing a mask that looked like--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Batman. This is Scarecrow,” said the man. He sat unnaturally still while he spoke. Batman ignored him - obviously this was a pre-recorded message meant to scare him. He continued to look around the room - there was an apparatus for transferring gas from the large tanks into smaller canisters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LOOK AT ME!” Scarecrow boomed, suddenly. Batman looked at the bank of TVs again and saw a small camera nested in the middle of them. Not pre-recorded after all, then. He approached the wall, still saying nothing. This seemed to annoy Scarecrow - Batman could see his eyebrows contract in the eyeholes of his mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Batman, tonight you’ll be privileged to witness the rise of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An empire of fear, no doubt.” Batman muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An empire of-- What did you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Please continue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well--fine. Tonight, you’ll get a taste of what’s to come. I’ve noticed a little bird snooping around upstairs.” Half of the TVs flicked to show Robin creeping down a hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s insides went cold. “He’s not with me. Just some kid dressed in his Halloween costume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scarecrow leaned toward the camera as Robin knelt down before a chest in the upper hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, such a shame. Well, I can’t have children snooping in my house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin stretched out his hands to open the chest and the screens went dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was halfway up the basement stairs before he realized he was moving. “Robin! Stop what you’re doing!” he shouted into his com, but he heard only static in response. His heart pounding, he skidded around a corner at the top of the basement stairs, then hurtled to the second floor. He heard Robin give a horrible scream and raced around the landing to find him huddled on the floor in the hallway, a thin green mist dissipating around the chest Robin had opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scarecrow’s voice rang down the hallway, crackling over speakers. “Don’t worry, Batman, I gave him an extra-concentrated dose. He'll be better in no time!” Scarecrow’s voice dissolved into peals of laughter and went silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Robin,” said Batman softly, walking toward him slowly, hands outstretched. “You’ll be okay, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bruce had gotten close enough to touch him, Robin looked up, gave a cry of fear, gave Bruce a swift jab to the nose and took off toward the open window at the end of the hallway. Bruce sprinted after him. Robin slipped out the window onto the roof and Bruce followed, trying not to slip on the wet tiles. Robin ran on like a cat while Bruce fell, righted himself, then fell again. Robin reached the edge of the roof and stopped abruptly, pinwheeling his arms to keep balance. He turned to see Bruce still following him and his foot slipped off the edge. Bruce caught up to him just in time to grab his wrist before he fell, but Robin, panting with fear, threw his whole weight against Bruce’s grip, causing them both to topple over the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they were falling, Bruce gripped the struggling Robin tightly to his chest and fired his grapple at the roof to slow their descent. Too late -- Bruce hit the ground hard on his back and felt the air driven from his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he struggled to breathe, Robin pushed his way out of Bruce’s grip, ran a few staggering steps, then collapsed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Robin!” Brue wheezed, staggering to his feet and rushing to the boy. Robin tried to crawl away, muttering, “No...noo” under his breath. Bruce summoned the Batmobile and wrestled Robin into it before pulling down his cowl. He punched in the commands to drive back to Wayne Manor before turning to the boy</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick,” he said softly, taking the boy gently by the shoulders. “It’s me. It’s Bruce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick froze, then his expression cleared a little. “Bruce?” he whispered, shivering. “What’s--what’s happening? Ah!” Dick looked at his hands in horror and started trying to wipe something off them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick, I need you to focus on me, okay?” Bruce said gently. Dick looked at him, still breathing fast and shallow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Bruce?” came Alfred’s voice over Bruce’s earpiece. “Master Richard’s heart rate and temperature are climbing rapidly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s inhaled some sort of toxin, Alfred, I--I’m bringing him back now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t a hospital be better, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hospitals don’t have anything for him. Call Lucius, and ask how the anti-toxin is coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick was now covering his eyes with his hands, whimpering. Bruce gently pulled them away. “Focus, Dick. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Bruce was afraid Dick wouldn’t answer. Then--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richard Grayson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. What were your parents’ names?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shadow seemed to pass over the boy’s face, but he looked a little more present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jonathan and Mary Grayson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Where do you live?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wayne Manor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Tell me your name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce continued this round of questions, trying to hold Dick’s focus, but each answer came slower and slower, with Dick getting more and more distracted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick? What’s your name?” Bruce was staring at the road ahead, willing the car to drive faster. Shadows flickered at the corners of his vision -- the toxin was affecting him, too, he realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Robin?” Dick mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You’ll be fine, once we get you home. Not much longer. What were your parents’ names?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...Bruce…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked over at him -- Dick was slumped against the door, his eyes half-open, unseeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick?” said Bruce. “Dick!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car splashed through the waterfall and skidded to a halt inside the cave. Bruce slapped himself in the chest to release his harness and hurried around to pull Dick out of his seat. Dick’s eyelids fluttered, but he was otherwise completely limp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way, Master Bruce,” Alfred called from further in. Bruce lifted Dick as gently as possible and carried him over to Alfred, who had donned scrubs, gloves, and a mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce laid Dick down on the table Alfred had cleared. Alfred removed Dick’s jacket and undershirt, then picked up bags of ice from a cooler and taped them to Dick’s armpits and either side of his neck. Dick roused a bit at the cold, struggling to sit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold him down, please, sir,” said Alfred, inserting a syringe into a bottle. He pulled out the plunger, held it up to his eyes, and flicked it with his finger. Dick caught sight of this and struggled harder against Bruce, who pressed him firmly into the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about this, Dick,” said Bruce, as Alfred tied a strap around Dick’s bicep, waited a moment, then inserted the needle deftly into the vein in his elbow. Dick’s thrashing grew weaker, and after a few seconds his head flopped back onto the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Bruce asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sedative, Master Bruce. We need to lower his body temperature, and the sedative will prevent shivering as well as, hopefully, calming the hallucinogenic effects of the toxin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, there is nothing else I can do for him. Lucius informs me that we are no nearer synthesizing an antidote, so we will simply have to...wait it out.” He attached a heart rate monitor to Dick’s finger and a temperature sensor to his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, Alfred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you, sir? Remarkable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t have let him come with me. He wasn’t ready. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Bruce, you know you had no power to stop him. And you prepared him as best you could. Your line of work, well, it has risks. Risks Master Richard accepted, and risks you accepted. I believe you are helping this city, and if Master Richard can help you, I believe he should.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed. “Thank you, Alfred.” He took a seat next to the table where Dick lay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the next two days, Alfred and Bruce watched over Dick, who spent part of the time in uneasy rest and part in frenetic, fearful babbling. About two o’clock on the second morning Dick grew more lethargic, and at first Alfred and Bruce were hopeful he was recovering at last, but as dawn drew nearer he grew less and less responsive - and, more worrisome still, his heart began to beat slower and slower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sat, watching him, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clenched tight. He’d removed his jacket and belt, but was still wearing his undershirt and pants from two nights ago. He hadn’t showered, and his hair hung lank and oily on his forehead. He hadn’t had more than an hour or two of sleep, and dark shadows lay under his eyes. Alfred had gone upstairs a few hours ago, hopefully to sleep, though Bruce guessed he was actually preparing food for both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Dick,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry.” He rose and rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder for a moment, before turning aimlessly away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce…” he heard from behind him, and he whipped around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick’s face twitched and his eyes snapped open. “Bruce?” He struggled to push himself up to a seated position, saw the IV tube attached to his arm and went to pull it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick, no!” Bruce shouted, rushing forward and seizing his wrist. Dick looked up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce? Is this real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is,” said Bruce quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No. Tell me something--tell me something I wouldn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” said Bruce, thinking, “The chemical structure of sugar is--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, there’s no way to check. I can’t tell.” Dick pulled his knees into his chest and gripped handfuls of his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick,” said Bruce, “It’s all right. You’re awake, you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?” Dick turned his head to look at Bruce, a haunted look in his eyes. “How many times I thought I was finally awake, and you, or Alfred, or--or my parents were there, telling me it was all right? And then you’d-- they’d--” he broke off, shuddering, and Bruce felt like his chest was being squeezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick, I--” his voice broke and he cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tell him how much he means to you. Tell him how worried you were.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’d better wait on you coming on more missions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re firing me?” said Dick. A look of outrage had replaced the haunted one, which, Bruce supposed, was an improvement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just think you could use more training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re demoting me to lookout, after everything. Shows how much you know.” He looked down at his chest, patting himself. “Where’s my--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Richard!” said Alfred, entering the cave carrying a tray of sandwiches and tea. He set the tray down and gave Dick a small smile. “Good to see you awake again, young sir. Master Bruce and I were quite concerned. How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tired, I guess,” said Dick, “But where did you put my jacket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right here,” said Alfred, taking it from the shelf where he’d neatly stored it. “Forgive me, I haven’t had time to wash it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Alfred. I’m pretty sure you saved my life.” He fished around in the pockets of his jacket. “Here,” he said roughly to Bruce, slapping a glass vial full of yellowish liquid into his hand. “That was in the chest - I grabbed it when I saw it was the only one that was still full. And I took these as well--” he pulled out a couple sealed cotton swabs. “I thought they might help Mr. Fox make an antidote for the poison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce stared at the things Dick had handed to him, stunned. He shook his head to clear it and thrust them toward Alfred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alfred, take these--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have them analyzed and sent to Mr. Fox, sir.” Alfred hurried over to the computer and began typing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked at Dick in amazement. “Quick thinking. Especially so, given the circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I knew we didn’t know much about it, and I figured it’d be easier to make an antidote if we had the poison. Kind of like milking snakes for venom to make antivenom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly right. Well done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Dick smiled. “Does this mean I still get to be your partner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First, we get some rest,” said Bruce. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then we’ve got a lot of work to do.”</span>
</p><p>
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